


TIKTOK STAR SAM

by peterspajamas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cooking, Crack Treated Seriously, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester Cooks, Sam Winchester Has PTSD, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent, Sam Winchester-centric, TikTok, idk how but there's a smidge, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28518144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterspajamas/pseuds/peterspajamas
Summary: TIKTOK STAR SAM WINCHESTERWith Eileen out on regular hunts and Sam retired, he decides to make a cooking tiktok: he doesn't expect it to blow up.Oh, but itdoes.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 21
Kudos: 113





	TIKTOK STAR SAM

**Author's Note:**

> fklajbefedf crack fic
> 
> uh i'm not sure there are any warnings past: in the first scene, Sam is just having a bad day. In terms of mental health

“Sammy, this- this is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean said, laughter bubbling out of his chest. 

“And? See, I knew you’d make it weird, you always make it weird, _Dean_ ,” Sam said, chewing on the inside of his mouth. He’d known Dean would find it, it was in his nature to be nosy, a prick, and teasing. But it did add a sense of finality to his movements as he grabbed a mug and thrust the coffee pot over it, drinking deeply.

“Aww. Nah, it’s cute, but-“ He exploded into laughter yet again. 

“Save the Samantha comments,” Sam muttered, resting his head on the cabinet. 

“Hey, does this mean you’ll make me meatloaf?”

Sam stared at him. “No.” 

(8 weeks earlier)

♥️♥️♥️♥️

It had started with Eileen. Like all of the best things in his life. Sam was out of the game, and she was in it, and the two of them kept getting separated. Housewife, she’d call him. It did get a little warmth prickling at him, the idea that he was waiting for her, acting like a husband.

She’d introduced him to the little videos on an extra twitchy day, when he couldn’t sit still and he felt like there was a remarkable amount of demon in his movements. Eileen knew a few things about those days: he didn’t want people around, didn’t want to feel his touch contaminating them, and that he never knew what to do. 

Eileen had signed hi, and blown him a kiss, and he’d smiled, and signed back a greeting, and she saw his trembling hands. She’d raised her eyebrows, checking the rest of him out, and then signed out that she was going for a hunt. 

It’d taken him a few seconds to understand, just because he sometimes wasn’t sure how signing time worked. They’d said their hellos, and not their goodbyes, it was always tradition to see each other soon. She’d texted him a few little videos. 

Sam liked them. 

Cas and Dean always hogged his computer, watching porn or cat videos or something, he wasn’t sure. Jack used the family computer nonstop to message Claire. These videos were fun, and more importantly, private. There were recipes on his tiktok, and people changing outfits. Sam made a note to try out the mac and cheese one. 

♥♥♥♥

“Sammy!” 

He blinked his eyes open, blanket falling off his shoulders. “Uh- one sec!” 

Sam got a head rush and shook it off, slow footsteps to the door. “You sound like you’re feeling better.” Dean thrust the door open. Jack hovered behind him. 

“Uh- yeah.” He rubbed at his face, smiling tentatively. “Dinner?” 

“I want garlic bread,” Jack told them both. 

Dean grinned. “My kind of kid, eh? Go ask Cas. He likes cooking.” He patted Jack on the shoulder and let him move along, hanging back with Sam. “You’re alright.” 

It wasn’t really a question. Sam took a deep breath. “Feeling… better. Wait, you helped Eileen, right, you made sure she was set up right?” 

Dean scoffed, guiding him along. For being 5 inches shorter than Sam, he sure was bossy. “She’s been hunting for decades, as if she would go out without everything she needs.” When Sam’s brow furrowed and he reached for his phone, Dean batted his hand away. “C’mon,” he said grudgingly. “I made sure, okay?” 

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not like I don’t trust her, but even the two of us have forgotten something once or twice,” he said, trying to explain. 

“I don’t think you need to help Dean understand,” Jack said, focusing on them. “He always makes sure that Castiel has holy water on him before going out.” 

Sam grinned. “Aww.” 

“Dean, I’m making garlic bread,” Cas said. Sam held himself back from making a vampire joke, collapsing at the table. “And Sam, I’m glad you’re doing better.” Sam flashed him a tired smile. “Dean was worried all day.” 

“Hey!” 

Dean could be smart, but sometimes his logic went out the window. “Dean, you realize that I _know_ when you’re worried about me? Like, you aren’t that subtle, man.” He paused. “And I can cook tomorrow night.” 

Dean patted him on the back again, a little one armed hug, and Jack passed the salad with a grinning smile. 

That night, their garlic bread was just normal bread with garlic powder added. But not for long, Sam thought. 

♥♥♥♥

For Eileen, it was the fourth day without a lead. For Sam, it was the fourth day spent itching for someone to talk to about all the videos he’d been watching. Dean had been busy with Cas, they were searching for a new house, and Jack was bouncing off the walls now that he had actually started school. “Miracle!” The dog thundered down the stairs, running into Sam’s legs. “You’re very dumb,” he whispered. “But I love you.” 

He took a deep breath, letting it out and finishing his route to the kitchen, stopping in front of the stove and bending over. Half the pots and pans were hilariously close to the ground, which he was fairly sure Dean had orchestrated. Humming, flipping through his eggs recipe book, a thought occurred to him, that he could send a nice little video to Eileen. She hated texting, she’d rather just sign, and calling obviously wouldn’t work unless it was on video. 

He gathered up the eggs and a stick of butter, tucking his phone behind the knife block. It would be a good way to practice his signing, too. He started off with mixing them up in a separate bowl, humming. Once he was done he fumbled to sign a quick little explanation: making eggs. Fists, and then hands down. 

Sam had learned how to make french omelettes in college, when they sounded fancy and had seemingly few ingredients. And then he’d spent a long time, and an entire carton of eggs, trying to make one that didn’t change into scrambled eggs. Stubborn and on a fool’s errand. Certainly described him. He scratched at his chest, swirling the pan around to make sure the butter was melted. When he looked up at the camera again, he flushed, giving a thumbs up. He went on, pouring the eggs in and focusing close to make sure it actually took. Being on camera was enough to make anyone self conscious, right? 

He made the sign for _rest_ , and then _eggs_ , again, hoping he hadn’t mixed up relax and rest again, and that she would understand. He ran his hands through his hair, a little tired, and leaned on the counter, looking over every so often just to make sure it wasn’t burning. He smiled, small, at the camera.

After his breakfast, he checked his phone again, beaming when he saw new messages from Eileen. Miracle butted at his leg and he reached down to scratch her. Dean tried to say she wasn’t allowed on the couch. Sam thought it was crap. 

They curled up together, him and Miracle, and Sam put on . His phone buzzed and when he saw it, he laughed. 

_Been spending a lot of time in recipe heaven?_

_Yeah._

_Post it on tiktok_. He laughed, shaking his head. 

_Do you really think that’s a good idea?_

_I don’t think I want people to know my face_. 

He sighed, watching the journey go by, and twisted one of his arms over the dog, hand on his wrist, twisting. Why was he so damn cold? It was ridiculous. 

_For me. I like checking in with you_. Sam swallowed, smiling despite himself.

Eileen wasn’t like anyone else had been before, to Sam, and he was never sure how to feel about it. Different in a lot of ways. She made him feel.... Sam felt safe around her. He felt like she was willing to protect him, to keep him safe. He wanted to see her just as happy. With Eileen, he felt, jarringly, like there was someone to keep him both safe and warm at once. 

_okay_ . _are you dealing with the snow good? if I do make one it i’ll send it to you_

Sam remembered what a _pain_ it was to hunt in the snow. He’d rather eat coals. “You texting your girl?” 

“I’m texting Eileen.” 

“Cas, what do you want for breakfast!” Dean called, slapping Sam on the shoulder. “Tell her to bitch about the snow to Cas so he doesn’t try and get me out there. I _know_ that the ass is going to be trying to get me out there to take out the skinwalker skulking around Minnesota and I’m not here to get frostbite,” he said, muttering his way to the kitchen. Miracle looked tempted to follow him. 

A scratch behind her ears dissuaded her. _I can’t wait to get home, that’s for sure_

_I can’t wait to see you back here_ . Sam held onto the phone, but paused the movie.  
  


“Dean, I can make breakfast if you want.” he stood up. “By the way, have you seen my slippers?”  
  


“That’s nice of you.” Dean squinted, suspicious. “Are you trying to con me into something?” 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, man. Maybe I just want to cook.” 

“Well, you ever need a taste tester-” Sam couldn’t help but laugh, pushing Dean into a hug. 

“Does it look like I’d ever underestimate your ability to eat?” he retorted. 

_See you soon. Check in if you can_

“Speaking of, I was going to take Cas to an all-you-can eat buffet tonight.” 

Sam nodded. _Same here_. “What is an all you can eat buffet?” Jack asked, standing in the doorway. 

Sam pushed Dean out, closing the door behind him. He was liable to do one of two things if he saw Sam making a video: make merciless fun, or freak out about the potential it had to expose them. “An all you can eat buffet, Jack, besides being the best date spot known to man, is a restaurant where you pay once to eat as much as you want.” 

Sam had a tripod _somewhere._ Drawer one, drawer two, junk drawer- ah, junk drawer. Along with a few old DVDs of Pixar movies, three broken scissors, and a potholder Castiel made Sam for Christmas, there was the glossy black tripod. He tilted it to face the stove at an uncertain angle, glancing back to the door. He cleared his throat, trying not to feel awkward as he got out some more eggs.

“I’m going to make some eggs,” he said, getting out the oil and then another egg. Dean liked them fried, and Jack liked to try new things. Had Jack had a fried egg? Eh, he’d like it. Pan out, olive oil in, because it was healthier and Dean needed it, his gut would thank Sam. 

He hummed slightly, hands turning over and cracking both into the pan. Loudly sizzling, they cooked through. Quickly, before they got too crispy, Sam flipped ‘em, and dumped them out on a couple of plates. He took down the tripod, carefully putting it back in the drawer, and shut off his phone, hitting the post button before he could second guess himself. He sent off the video to Eileen and turned around. “Plates up!”

♥♥♥♥

Later that night, she texted him back: 

_You absolute moron_. 

Sam bristled, looking at the video, squinting. He had some comments. He’d been pretty proud of the video. He was a good cook, and Jack had kept saying all the flavors he liked, to the point where Dean was getting offended that he didn’t get the same response when he made those godawful fried meatballs with the bacon on them. 

Most of the comments were mean, which suggested that it was utter crap. Sam tied his hair up, peering down at the criticisms. He now had 20 followers to impress. Most of the suggestions were simple fixes. He hadn’t bothered to talk, or add audio, since it was for Eileen, but he could put that in. 

trashball123 had commented 3 times to say that Sam had done it deliberately badly to get viral. _Fuck you_ , he typed out, rolling up his sleeves. 

“I’ve been informed that I need to narrate. This is a late night snack. Put the butter in the bowl, add the brown sugar, chocolate chips. Flour isn’t supposed to be eaten raw, premeds tell me. That’s crap,” he said indignantly. “I used to eat spoonfuls of flour when I was a kid. It could give you e.coli, but I’ve eaten worse.” Sam muffled a laugh, glancing at the door. 

Dean would die if he saw the housewifery Sam’d been reduced to. Ah well. He didn’t have to know. “Vanilla extract, milk, and then a little bit of salt.” He pinched it, dropping it in. “I didn’t like all the mean comments on the last video. You people are assholes. Give me a pity follow.” 

He listened to all the audios and chose the peppiest one. 

♥♥♥♥

Yet again, Sam woke to hate comments. 

Now this was really starting to piss him off. Eileen had put in some crying emojis on her text to him. _can’t believe the internet is bullying you_. 

Sam had even added closed captions. He growled under his breath, glaring at the stupid little notifications bar. He had another 50 new followers. At least 5 people had left comments about how badly the audio matched the music. _Grudgingly_ \- he had to agree. But the rest was crap. Some comments about his hands; he suppressed a laugh. Some of them were starting to make him laugh, because it was no lie that he had chosen a pop punk song to go over his late night snack and the quality was blurry and the lighting was bad- 

  
He’d do better this time. “Bacon goes on a tray. Stick it in the oven. Toast in the toaster. Don’t use moldy bread.” He squinted, holding his phone steadily. “I’m making cinnamon rolls from scratch today. Uh. Join me.” 

That was when the account got popular. The beginning of the end. 

♥♥♥♥

Sam made one or two videos a day, and in his free time, he edited them. 

A full week after Eileen had promised she’d be home, she texted him that she was coming back from Tennessee. He grinned. “Eileen’s home soon!” he called to the bunker. 

He leapt out of bed, tangled on the sheet, and landed in the living room with a rumpled pair of pajamas and a smile. “We are excited to see her as well!” Cas replied. 

“Not as excited as I am,” Sam grinned, walking through the TV room. “I’m using the kitchen, don’t come in there.” Dean grunted, sniffing at his coffee. Yeah. He wouldn’t suspect a thing. Sam smacked his hand on the radio, _closing time, time for you to go out…_

“I’m making banana bread. My girlfriend is coming home from her business trip today,” he said, floaty grin drifting into his voice. “It’s her favorite food.” 

He put the ingredients over the video in text, anyway, so he could just ramble if he wanted, to the side, or crack eggs and whisk away in easy silence. But this time, he couldn’t help but babble. “I’m really excited about it, she’s been gone for 2 weeks and I miss her so much, so I’m making banana bread. I’m making four loaves, which is a double batch, and I’m using my family recipe- uh, part of it got ruined with water, so I had to make part of it up, though. She’s the best, have I said that? And I know she’s going to be hungry.” He hesitated, cracking an egg and flicking the traces of yolk off his hand. He stopped the video, just to rinse it. 

Deep breath. “You stupid commenters ask me why I make food? This is why. I just want to do things for the people I love.” He shoved all four pans into the preheated oven. “Fuck you.” 

He stopped the video again, humming along to _Closing Time_ once more. “This means that you love me, right? Since you make all my food for me?”

“Jack!” Sam said, spooking. “You didn’t see anything, alright?” 

Jack smiled. He understood secrecy, somehow intrinsically. Not like Sam did. But Sam had secrets, he had a locked heart, locked down memories, and he wasn’t sure that anyone really understood- not even Eileen. “I won’t tell anyone. What... is it?”  
  


Sam tilted his head, reaching around Jack to make sure the door was shut. “You’re a teenager, right? I bet you know TikTok.” Jack nodded. “I make cooking videos.” 

Before he could go on, Jack blurted a question. “Can you make panettone?” 

“What’s that?” Sam said blankly. “And like I said. Don’t tell Dean.”  
  


“Panettone is Italian. It’s bread.” Sam was already making banana bread, but what was a little more? 

“With yeast?” Jack nodded, rocking back and forth. 

Sam made the starter with him, and Jack kept interrupting the narration he was trying to do with fun facts. It was the best time he’d spent with his kid so far this month.

  
  


♥♥♥♥

The top comment on _that_ video was asking for a face reveal, but he didn’t see it for days. Eileen got home and Sam flung himself into her arms, breathing in her scent, the smell of her hair and the shape of her body, no matter how dirty it was.

He shoved his glasses on, curling into her side. “What movie do we want to put on?” Dean asked the room at large. It took Sam a few seconds to sit up, signing the translation into being. She was laughing, though. 

“Shit, what’d I do wrong?” he asked aloud, lifting his hand to his face to sign a question, ask after his mistake. 

“I understood what you mean,” she laughed, tears gathering in her eyes. Sam’s focus flicked to Dean, who was looking equally amused. As if he _knew_ -

“Pride and Prejudice? I like this movie,” Cas said, grabbing Dean’s attention. 

Sam automatically signed a thank you, which only made Eileen laugh harder, because Cas couldn’t understand that, he didn’t know sign language. “Subtitles,” Eileen reminded them. 

Sam signed a translation for Dean, then blinked at his hands. When he looked up, no one was stone faced, Eileen had tears in her eyes, and Dean was buried into Cas’ shoulder. “I hate you,” Sam groaned to the room at large. He didn’t want to put it into signs, because it would have been a lie. Nothing felt as kind to his heart as Eileen did. 

♥♥♥♥

Gloatingly, Eileen had kept lording the fact over Sam that _she_ was the one to convince him to become famous. 

Sam finally replied to the comment, telling ‘em that if he had 50,000 followers he’d do a face reveal, knowing there was no chance. And he settled in to live with a gloating Eileen, with a Jack who was excited to share his secret, with Dean, who was acting unbearable lately. It made Sam self conscious, though he didn’t show it. There was no problem with Sam staying at home, _safe_ , while Eileen hunted. But the housewife jokes felt old. Like sandpaper on his skin. 

“Sam.” He blinked awake, fumbling for the lamp at the side of his bed and propping himself up. 

“What?” he replied, thinking hard. Oh God, were mornings hard. She must have read his lips- oh, it gave him a warm flush of _something_ in his belly, knowing that she knew him well enough to tell what he was saying just by his lips- because she waved the phone in his face. 

He had 50,000 followers. What in the fuck- 

“Nope,” he said, shoving it away and getting right back under the covers. His meaning was plain, but she coaxed him out of the covers. He snapped his fingers down, probably a little harsh and definitely sulky, but he didn’t want to show his face. 

“You promised.”

And Sam never broke a promise. 

♥♥♥♥

Taking a deep breath and smiling nervously at Eileen, who was biting into a large apple, Sam started the video. “This is apple cobbler,” he said, chopping quickly and neatly. Cinnamon blend, few sticks of butter. 

The first time he’d made it was at Jessica’s mom’s house. Her parents were divorced, and that year, she had taken him with to her mother’s Thanksgiving, and he’d offered to help. “Apples, get the crust in the bottom, like htis,” he said, holding the pan up to the camera and smiling nervously. Eileen laughed in the background. “Fuck her, that’s- Eileen, my girlfriend, she’s reading my lips right now and she’s gonna give me hell because of that comment.” 

The video stopped to let it cook and she waltzed over. “Not so bad.” 

_Yes,_ he admitted, signing his agreement and pulling her into his chest. 

♥♥♥♥

Later that night, Dean started laughing in the middle of dinner. Sam tilted his head over, checking it out.

“Sammy, this- this is the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Dean said, laughter bubbling out of his chest. 

That was him. On video. Making apple cobbler. He narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“And? See, I knew you’d make it weird, you always make it weird, _Dean_ ,” Sam said, chewing on the inside of his mouth. He’d known Dean would find it, it was in his nature to be nosy, a prick, and teasing. But it did add a sense of finality to his movements as he grabbed a mug and thrust the coffee pot over it, drinking deeply.

“Aww. Nah, it’s cute, but-“ He exploded into laughter yet again. 

“Save the Samantha comments,” Sam muttered, resting his head on the cabinet. 

“Hey, does this mean you’ll make me meatloaf?”

Sam stared at him. “No.” 

♥♥♥♥

Tensions reached a boiling point the day Eileen left to take down a banshee. 

Sam had been filming one of his little videos, chocolate drizzled boozy peaches, if anyone was wondering, when Dean darted in and stole the tray. “Hey!” Sam hollered. 

No reply. He stormed through the house. “Sam?” Jack asked. 

“Not now!” He opened the door to two faces full of peach. “Dean!” he hollered with all his might. 

“Sam,” he replied, swallowing around muffled words. 

“These are very delicious.” Cas’s hand darted down to the pan again and Sam slapped it away. “Thank you for making them, Sam.”  
  


“Not for you, actually.” He glared accusingly. 

“These bring me the ecstasy of a thousand orgasms, I saved the world, I deserve them-” 

“No you don’t.” Sam shook his head firmly and Cas squirmed back, taking himself out of the equation. “You have to earn them.” 

“Can I have one?” 

Sam considered, then nodded. “Hey, why does Jack get ‘em?” Dean asked, nudging Jack. 

“He helped me make panettone,” Sam replied immediately. “You haven’t done a thing! In fact, this is the… the _third_ time you’ve stolen my food before I could film the reveal. How am I going to keep making content! I’m supposed to be a tiktok star!” 

Dean _hmphed_. “Well, I am very prepared to make it up to you. I’ll make something with you.” 

Sam held in a laugh. “I don’t think you know how to make anything good enough for my channel. Well, anything that’s vegetarian.” 

Dean jumped up, actually excited now. Sam followed him to the kitchen, somewhat curious. “We’ll make my best Winchester Surprise recipe vegetarian.” 

Sam stood stock still. “You realize,” he began, clearing his throat. “You realize the recipe is ⅔ meat? It’s all pork and beef. And American cheese.” 

Dean slapped him on the shoulder, pulling out the glass pan that usually held that _monstrosity_. “If I can dream it I can do it.” 

♥♥♥♥

They found, a few hours later, that it was truly impossible. There was just no substitute for something so….

Sam didn’t know how to describe it. It had cleared the air, at least, because Dean’s insistent jokes pried open the trap Sam had fallen into after all the goddamn jokes. He had the little snatches of discomfort on his face, playing womenfolk, but Cas stayed out and even though Jack was in the room, being talkative, he wasn’t paying attention. “For someone who acts like they know how to cook, he’s really pathetic,” Sam said eventually, pulling Dean into view of the camera. 

“I cooked for you as a baby,” Dean replied stubbornly. 

  
Sam looked at the camera dead on. “You heard it here first. Baby formula is the same as… congealed shredded jackfruit and some hunks of broccoli.” He poked at the steaming casserole dish. 

“Well, who cares about that,” Dean scoffed. “We’ll just make something else.” 

Sam went along with it. “I was planning vodka sauce and pasta.” 

Dean hummed low in his chest. “Well, let’s get started,” he said eagerly, going for the pasta cabinet. 

“I’m going to start with salting the water. Get it boiling,” Sam explained, positioning the camera over the pan. “Dean, toss me the onions!” he yelled. 

“How did you two become so attuned to each other?” Jack asked, inspecting the onion Dean threw over to him. 

“Brother thing, I guess,” Dean asked. 

“But it’s only when you’re _doing_ something,” Jack went on. “Can I have a brother? Or a sister?” 

“No,” Sam replied immediately. 

“Yes,” Dean said at the same time. “Come on, doesn’t Eileen want kids?” 

“How’s school?” Sam asked, diverting the topic sloppily. “Uh, chop onions and garlic, like so.” 

“School is good,” Jack said. “I learned about the effects of heat on enzyme structure. It’s called de-naturing, and all proteins do it if you boil them. Does pasta have proteins in it?”  
  


“I don’t know.” Sam kept cooking with Dean’s help. 

The dish completed, he got started on a few sides. “My son likes garlic bread,” he explained. 

“ _My_ son,” Dean grumbled. 

“My son likes garlic bread,” Sam repeated. “I have a few extra cloves here. I think I made it in a video before.” He shrugged. “Tomorrow he has me convinced to make bread from scratch, which is always a chore.” 

“I like fresh bread. The house always smells nice after it’s done baking,” Jack said contemplatively. 

Sam split the loaf down the middle with a knife, pointing and nodding. “Only fun part.” He reached up, absently licking the garlic sauce off of the knife and setting it down. “Anyway, ready for dinner?” 

♥♥♥♥

  
The top comment on that one, was, ironically, from Eileen. _Why in the fuck did you lick that bread knife, Sam?_

**Author's Note:**

> please comment or kudos! it would mean a whole lot!!


End file.
